


Reprise

by Substance



Series: Instrument of Surrender [7]
Category: League of Legends
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/F, Fantasy, Femslash, Heavy Angst, Romance, Yuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:14:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Substance/pseuds/Substance
Summary: Yuri/Femslash - Ashe x Sejuani / Ashe x Quinn - Sequel to "Faith" - Ashe and Volibear return from the Shadow Isles. Many possibilities await them. Can Ashe unite the Freljord at last? Or is she cursed to repeat her mistakes forever, longing for a future that will never come?
Relationships: Ashe/Quinn (League of Legends), Ashe/Sejuani (League of Legends)
Series: Instrument of Surrender [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/252994
Comments: 7
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the rights to 'League of Legends'. This is written solely for entertainment, not profit. Please don't sue me, Rito.
> 
> Rated M for references to death, sex and childbirth, though it goes into far less detail than my previous fics, Prey, Gemini and Faith. In comparison to them, this is a ‘mild M’ but I’ve kept it due to the subject matter.
> 
> This story is the last in a series, following Infinity, Dreams, Vengeance, Prey, Gemini and Faith (also on this site). I wouldn’t recommend reading this before any of them. It won’t make sense otherwise.
> 
> For those who are new to the series, the pairings are Ashe x Sejuani and Ashe x Quinn, and we're ending on Ashe's POV. Most of it was written before the Warmother update, so I’m rolling with my own perversion of the older, spottier lore.

I’m in a prison with no walls. The earth and sky have crumbled into darkness. Nothing remains but a curious gas lamp, suspended above like a warning. It bathes my form in a grey light. My shadow creates the floor upon which I lie.

How did I get here?

* * *

I have memories. I’m unsure if they’re from the past or the future.

Perhaps I should treat them all as the present. Yes, that might work.

Volibear and I walk together, not quite in silence. I’ve torn him asunder. He no longer knows who he is or what he believes. I have that effect on people. However, one constant remains. He is a slave to his compassion. As I torture him with my presence, he helps me walk, ensures I eat and drink, and even helps me into my bedroll when I collapse.

He may resent me, but we faced the void together. We can’t always choose our family, and now we’re brothers. I tell him this. While the prospect unsettles him, he doesn’t argue.

Upon reaching the Freljord, we chart our course without discussion. Returning via my lands to gather supplies and an escort would have been wiser, but I no longer care for my safety.

The climate rejuvenates. We make rapid progress towards the Winter’s Claw. A frozen river marks the natural boundary between our lands. I’d crossed it before to fire messages to Sejuani.

Volibear expresses no relief. ‘We’re back. Hopefully, I’m still welcome. We may have a fight on our hands.’

‘Would Sejuani have covered for your absence?’

‘Yes, but word of our journey has likely travelled. If it’s reached the wrong ears…’

We may find ourselves behind enemy lines with nowhere to run. ‘Do you think Udyr knows?’

‘He was in your lands the whole time I was in your company.’ Volibear sounds pleased. It’s not often he has the advantage. ‘If we’re lucky, he’ll find us before anyone else. Our raiders listen to him, so he could disperse them and smuggle us in.’

‘Udyr’s been a stone in my boot for so long but I wouldn’t have survived without him. I’ve almost come to think of him as an ally.’

‘Think what you will. I doubt he cares.’ Volibear opens the strongbox to reveal Anivia’s egg. I’d feel better if there were some evidence it contained Sejuani’s rescued soul. ‘Here.’

‘You’re trusting me with this?’ Weeks ago, I would have been elated. Now I feel guilty.

‘You need protection. Our berserkers _might_ endanger Sejuani to kill you, but most will hesitate.’

‘They’re not going to look at this and assume it’s important.’

‘I’ll tell them it is. And if any of them strike first, I’ll have my claws free to defend you.’

Gingerly, I pick up the egg. It nestles to my bosom as though it belongs there. My cheeks grow warm. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘This will change everything, won’t it, if I’m seen to rescue Sejuani?’

‘Maybe not for the better, or as much as you’d hope.’

‘It’s hard to believe in a tidy resolution after all we’ve been through.’ I smile at him. ‘Hey, Volibear?’

‘True, which is as it should be.’

I offer him my hand. He accepts it, and we confirm a relationship which is entirely ours, even if it’s not a good one. ‘Lead the way. Sejuani’s waiting.’

The empty strongbox remains in the snow behind us, awaiting a second life, or slow destruction by the Freljord.

* * *

I know Sejuani’s lands quite well, though it’s odd to see them during the day. Normally, if I’m here, I’m creeping about at night. The plains are much wider, flatter and sparser than ours, which is why the Winter’s Claw have a tradition of mounted combat. I’m glad they struggle with our forests.

Udyr charges into view, his broad silhouette enhanced with the blue shroud of his bear aspect. I struggle to read his face, which is all teeth and beard. Is Udyr capable of emotions other than contempt? He spies the egg. ‘So you endured the Shadow Isles long enough to rescue Sejuani. Guess the old man can still fight.’

Volibear swells with pride. ‘Was there any doubt?’

‘Your choice of companion suggested otherwise.’ Udyr grins. ‘Ashe, you look smaller and older than I remember. Did you carve chunks off yourself to buy his mercy?’

‘Perhaps. You’re well placed to comment. I should thank you for saving my life.’

‘You’re welcome but you had the benefit of circumstance. Don’t count on my protection. I survived this long only by letting the right people die.’ The spectre of a turtle forms a barrier between us. ‘Are you here to unite the Freljord by restoring Sejuani? Your hubris astounds me. Only Volibear and I know the details of Sejuani’s bondage so your gift will mean nothing to her tribe.’

‘It will mean something to _her_.’

‘She’ll be grateful, but her captured soul was never the cause of her lethargy. It was a promise to alter her fate after death, no more, no less.’ He steps back into a wide posture, drawing energy from his trunk. ‘Her darkness comes from within, as it always did. Volibear should have told you this.’

‘He did. Your pessimism won’t deter me. I’m here to repay my debt. Everything else can follow.’

‘If I were a pessimist, I would not be wasting my time with your internecine quarrel. It is a tragedy that I must rely on you all to defeat the Watchers.’

‘Do you make a habit of wishing away your allies?’

Volibear drags a paw along his snout. ‘He does. You learn to ignore it after a while.’ He squares up to Udyr. ‘We need your help.’ It sounds like a threat rather than a plea. This must be how Sejuani’s people talk.

Udyr plays along. ‘You want to sneak Ashe to Sejuani? I won’t endanger myself by coming with you but I can provide a route. I’ll sweep ahead and ensure the path is clear.’

I’m impressed by how quickly Sejuani’s men work through their antagonism to solve problems. My advisors could learn a thing or two here. Volibear says, too eagerly, ‘How fit is Sejuani? Could you bring her to us?’

I override him. ‘No, that would be dangerous. People might see betrayal. If we go to her, she can deny all knowledge.’

‘I’ll be glad when we part ways, Ashe. I’m too dependent on your oversight.’ He adds quietly, as if confessing a weakness. ‘If that isn’t an option, I’d like to know how she’s doing.’

Udyr frowns. ‘What would I know? She communicates little, and exercises to quiet her mind. At least she now resembles a leader rather than a corpse. I can gather reports and obtain decisions without a prompt.’

‘Is she eating?’

‘She’s always mashing her gums on some bone or other, but she’s not putting on weight. Maybe she has a parasite.’ Udyr shrugs. ‘I’m not her nurse. I leave that role to you, Volibear.’

She can’t look after herself. I have to respect her autonomy but old reflexes die hard. I can’t resist. ‘She’s throwing up when no-one’s looking. Are her teeth rotten?’

‘They’ve always been rotten. I can’t say if they’ve worsened. Unlike you, I don’t make a habit of entering her mouth.’

My skin crawls. ‘How much do you know?’

‘Please, Ashe. You released her from your dungeons and blamed it on me. I spent enough time in your lands to hear the tale you’d spun. At Kaiku, Sejuani thanked me for saving your life. A month later, you began firing love letters into our territory. Now, you’ve rescued her rather than press your advantage.’ His bear aspect returns. I don’t know if it’s a trick of the light, but his arms appear to lengthen. ‘I’ve no mind to suffer your act. You should follow quickly and waste less of my time.’ Udyr sprints away. Clouds of snow rise and fall in his wake. It’s unfair how he can run so fast for so long.

Volibear gets on all fours. ‘Come. Udyr won’t betray us, but there’s every chance he’ll get distracted if we don’t hurry.’

I vault onto his back. ‘I’m glad he’s co-operating.’

‘As am I. He hates responsibility, yet he’s taken up my role. It’s a relief to know Sejuani’s had a capable go-between.’

‘Have I turned him against his nature like everyone else?’

He grumbles. ‘I’m sure Udyr is beyond anyone’s control. You can rest easy.’

‘Not yet, Volibear.’

We go deeper into Sejuani’s territory, and closer to my judgement.

* * *

Udyr zig-zags across the plains, then up a sheer mountain-face. No other human could follow without preparation. Luckily, Volibear makes short work of the climb as I hold on for dear life. Heights aren’t an issue for me but I don’t enjoy relying on someone else’s grip.

I don’t know what to expect from Sejuani’s base. Her own tent is mobile, in keeping with tradition, but I’d long suspected there was a semi-permanent retreat, a point from where Volibear and Sejuani could manage both their forces.

We’re close to the southern tip of Ursine territory. Their lands were impregnable until now. The Ursine could sniff out a spy in a swamp. We’re high enough that clouds are obscuring our view.

There’s no sign of Udyr. He’s made himself scarce. We must be close.

The damp is unpleasant, but at least we’re out of the wind. As I’m losing my thoughts to the steady rumble of Volibear’s progress, we dip below the clouds and all is revealed.

A wide plateau juts into the ravine like a stretched lip. I recognise Sejuani’s tent at once, an imposing, two tier fabrication, held together with bones and the discoloured, scaly hide of some creature, possibly a remorhaz. I wonder if she designed it herself.

The other structures look permanent. One is a disinterested mead hall, not suitable for a chieftain. The rest are stores and fortifications. Caves burrow into the mountain wall. This looks more like an evil monastery or prison camp than a proud seat of conquest.

Volibear says, ‘We’ve made it. Skulking through your own territory like a thief is not pleasant. I don’t understand how anyone endures this kind of double life.’

I dismount and loosen my joints, grateful to be in control once again. ‘Welcome to my world, Volibear. For better or worse, we’ll have nowhere to hide after this.’

‘Perhaps. Whatever your intentions, people might interpret this in ways that conceal you. To counter them, you will need a myth, a narrative… or a dream to make this work, a vision people can’t ignore.’

‘We have one of those things.’ Maybe Sejuani and I could sleep forever and spend our whole lives there.

‘That’s not what I meant but yes, you do.’ He sounds ambivalent. ‘Once you’re prepared, I’ll go first. I’ll protect you with my life, but you’ll be challenged in other ways and I can’t speak for you.’

‘Can we put an end to this talk of you dying for me?’

‘No. My promise to Sejuani comes first.’

* * *

Volibear announces our arrival. He wastes no time revealing my presence. Everyone scrambles to receive us. I meet their eyes. There’s distrust but little disdain. Sejuani’s inner circle must echo her regard for me.

I look for anyone resembling a mistress. The shorter, beardless warriors aren’t unambiguously female. Everyone wears comparable armour. None are cursed with Sejuani’s overt appeal or my cruel womanhood.

She guards her desire too well, as always. I’d vainly hoped for some insight.

Three months ago, this would have been the most stressful, pivotal moment of my life. Now I feel nothing. I wonder if my veteran’s broken stare is persuading Sejuani’s people that I’m one of them.

We’re proceeding slowly but steadily when a loud snort halts our advance.

Bristle emerges from a tent, just large enough to contain him. For an instant, I smile stupidly, knowing Sejuani values him so. He’s proof of her maternal instincts. My little daydream vanishes when I see the purpose in Bristle’s eyes. He’s focused on the egg I’m carrying. I can taste his scalding breath from here.

Volibear leaps in front of me, paws crackling. He yells to the crowd, ‘Get Sejuani! She’s the only one who can soothe him!’ Volibear then plants all four limbs into the ground, as if bracing for a hurricane. He says to me, ‘Beasts recognise souls, and he’ll do anything to reach Sejuani. Guard that vessel.’ 

‘With my life,’ I say.

Bristle and Volibear collide. Everyone scatters from the force of their impact. As I shake off the thunderclap, I’m amazed to see Volibear overcoming their weight difference with guile and balance. Every time Bristle leverages one set of muscles, Volibear shifts, jabbing his claws into softer hide. I pray someone comes before Sejuani gets hurt.

A familiar battle cry startles me. I whirl to see an explosion of hair, the colour of fire. The sun glints off a blade. In other circumstances, I would have leapt aside. Instead, I use my body to protect Sejuani.

Pain shatters my nerves. A sticky warmth coats my shoulder and arm. Cold unfurls from my neck. Sensation ebbs, as if I’m being removed, piece by piece. Collapsing to the floor, I strain to breathe, but I have no lungs. I hear the crushing drumbeat of asphyxiation as my tongue flaps uselessly in a pool of my blood.

I look up into Olaf’s murderous rage. Sweat and saliva coat his beard, yet his anger is righteous, not feral. He’s watched his beloved Sejuani shrivel before his eyes and he knows I’m responsible. Olaf was never the mindless warmonger of his reputation. He’d always fought and killed for a reason, like honour, perfection… or vengeance.

Damn you, Kalista. I should have known you’d follow. 

Sejuani’s weapon crashes into him. She’s here! The cold cyclone tugs at us but Olaf ignores it and erupts free. Not even my arrows could suppress him. He raises another axe to finish me off but Udyr’s tiger spirit enters the fray, shredding Olaf’s back to ribbons. Olaf can’t ignore the threat. As they duel to the side, Sejuani straddles me. The colour’s drained from her cheeks. Not even the red-raw lash of the Freljord remains.

Don’t worry, my princess. I’m going to make everything better. My mission is over. I think I’m smiling. She’s so lovely that I can’t help it. My beautiful Sejuani, death itself won’t keep us apart. Once we touch, I will never let go. Tendons rebind through sheer will. Reaching up, I caress her jaw. She clutches my hand. There. No matter how wide the void opens, I will never fall, not with my love as my anchor.

The world grows dark and silent. There’s only her skin on mine.

We hold on.

I will embrace this instant, these last few seconds. I will make them into days. I will make them eternity.

My spirit lingers enough to see the darkness crack with azure light.

The egg is hatching.

I hear Avarosa’s lament.

_Sejuani is not a cryophoenix, and humans are part of a different cycle. The soul has to progress, not return to the same body._

Then what will happen?

_Time will resolve this contradiction. Forgive me. I could have warned you, but I was too selfish._

My thoughts are too weak to grasp what you mean but I forgive you.

_I know, and you will again. If only you could forgive yourself._

…

_I love you._

Because I am not yours?

_Because you are not me. You are something better. Though you may not realise it, you always were, and you always will be._

Time pauses before my death.

_I will never let you go._

Like a fish plunging back into the sea, time reverses to the point where Sejuani was lost.


	2. Chapter 2

Wait.

This isn’t Lissandra’s ambush.

_I can still feel her hands in my hair and mouth. Deprived of stimulation, my nerves echo what came before._

So this is where Sejuani fell? I swim towards her voice.

_Like an amputee with a phantom itch, I find myself yearning for those hands._

I hear someone else drown out her eloquent longing. I am in my room, alone, howling in frustration. I watch as I pull at my clothes and hair, scatter furniture and invoke Avarosa.

This fair, enlightened woman who would be queen has dropped her mask, and she will never fit the pieces together again.

I draw nearer. The currents of time nourish the roots of a tree, groaning as if alive. It shambles towards a final destination, breaking limbs as possibilities dwindle.

Yet I can brush aside obstacles, free branches before they snap.

I whisper one thought to my broken self. _This is not how it ends_.

* * *

After kissing Sejuani for the first time, I succumb to madness.

Madness can take any form, and I needed one for my purpose. I wasn’t subtle.

Dreamcraft was beyond my skill. That world remains pure. Instead, I put a silly, waking notion into my lovesick head.

I stain a pillowcase with my blood then shamble across the plains to deliver it.

All I have is brute force and emotion. I navigate with no sense of direction. I could be running in circles.

* * *

I come to a wide ravine, flanked by two ancient pines, a stalemate lasting until both die apart.

I whittle signs into the bark. I spread rumours to ensure my forces and the Winter’s Claw meet within Lissandra’s trap.

I contrive Sejuani’s death to ensure progression. I’m sorry, my love. I saw no other way. Perhaps a better person would have seen farther.

The pine falls, bridging the crevasse.

 _Onward_ , I urge the treant, which cares for nothing else. _Onward_.

* * *

I’ve cast Sejuani to the depths. Now I must follow.

The sweetest birdsong can herald an avalanche. I see Quinn beneath my lair. She’s making use of my targets, yet she’s due to become one.

All I have to do is needle myself to wake up. Loneliness, desire and the cover of night will do the rest.

I crawl through dense undergrowth. Brambles tear my clothes and flesh until my pulp is exposed.

In hiding, I am revealed.

* * *

It is a mercy that I needn’t witness the creature I’ve become.

Left alone, I savage wildlife, humiliate Sejuani and orchestrate Volibear’s capture. Likewise, he came looking for me of his own accord.

Occasionally, patterns form without a seamstress, or they are not patterns at all, and we suppose order that isn’t there.

The Winter’s Claw might have agreed with that interpretation, if they hadn’t killed me.

The treant says nothing. It follows a path which is no path.

* * *

Momentum gathers. My knotty companion rides the scree down a misty gorge.

I can’t find the means to cross the sea but a momentary lapse of reason will provide a ship.

With a nudge, I crawl to Volibear with my tail between my legs, even though I’d resolved not to seek his approval.

Above our meeting, Valor betrays Quinn. Was he careless on purpose? I guess we’ll never know.

The treant swerves down a steeper cliff, as eager to descend as I am. Our wills are becoming one.

* * *

Olaf kills me again, and the cycle resumes. Like a whirlpool, it sucks me further down with each repetition.

Why can’t I prevent this? I intervened before. All I have to do is ensure Volibear returns alone.

Something is blocking history’s progress. I have to discover what.

The whirlpool ends in a single point. All that’s left is darkness. The light, from where I fell, dwindles above.

Before dissolving with the cycle, the treant offers a hand. I suspect we’re older friends than I know. He says, ‘I would end your burden, but it always returns.’

I draw words from another life. ‘I know, Maokai. Please rest. You needn’t wait for me.’

‘I will always wait for you. When your final journey beckons, I will be there to carry you forth.’

But for now, I am alone with my shadow.

* * *

So… do I replay and regret my decisions for as long as my thoughts endure? The despair hasn’t set in yet. I’ve crossed over to new world, beyond time and death. What marvels await?

I hear the frayed voice of an old man. ‘Your sense of wonder is a gift, ashen maid. Every turn, you greet us with the same song in your heart. I keep expecting your flame to die from one life too many, yet you persist.’

I reach for my weapons. They’re gone. Avarosa’s protection doesn’t extend to here. ‘Where are you?’

‘There’s only one path. You can do naught but follow. Come.’

I walk away from the grey lamp. Imagination fills the void. I hear my footsteps echo as I cross the damp-slick floor of a tomb. I see torches flicker. They reveal stones, worn by the tread of generations or a lone restless woman.

His voice returns. ‘You explored such ruins as a child, yes? We’ve had many conversations about them. I recall your first visit. You were determined to see the founding of your land. I’ve learnt to disappoint you now rather than later.’

The torches dim. So that’s one prospect dashed.

‘Sorry. Death is not omniscience, despite what others claim.’

This isn’t the Shadow Isles. Apparently, death’s kingdom ended like all others. The thought gives me some pleasure. Victory is mine, Kalista.

‘There is no need for vengeance here. Kalista dug her own grave aeons ago.’

‘Can you read my thoughts or do I ask every time?’

‘Your thoughts aren’t known to me but you always check for danger. Death inspires one to close the stable after the horse has bolted.’

‘Or the angry boar.’ Silence. ‘Do I always say that?’

‘You do, and I always give you the prompt in case anything has changed.’

‘Oh…’

‘Try not to dwell on it.’

Of course, I’m going to dwell on it! I’m going to compulsively hunt for the means to differentiate my current self and escape whatever’s happening. Where’s a deck of cards when you need it? I could use chance to frustrate my host.

Lost in my own thoughts, I proceed without awareness. The spectral catacombs give way to a narrow bridge across the void. I halt as my feet are soaked in a terrible red light. Dread rises. The ground is an illusion. I’m suspended above the glow of a million collapsed stars, dangling as if caught by the scruff of my neck. A tug on my hair forces me to look at the horrifying monument above. I scream.

Crucified across a moon of blood, metal and stone is… Volibear, mouth agape and eyes hollow. His chest does not move. He shows no signs of decay or life. Meaningless words spill from my lips until a quiet voice breaks through.

‘Sorry, ashen maid. There has never been a good way to show you this, only a quick one.’

A tiny, sallow man, nailed to a grandfather clock in a similar pose to Volibear, swoops in. I doubt his bones could survive the gentlest contact with any surface. His eyes are milky, but set within a firm expression. I hurl questions at him. ‘What have you done to Volibear? He doesn’t deserve this! Of all the people in all the worlds, why him?’ No reply. ‘He was the best of us! He was…’

‘Your nation’s past, present and future… and the end of all time.’

‘What? Volibear is the end of _time_? How?’

‘Even the ending to all things is a thing in itself, and you know it as Volibear. I’m sorry. I sought to change his fate once I learnt of his goodness but he grew hostile to my efforts.’

I guessed the universe would make little sense from here, but nothing could prepare me for this. ‘You tried to help him?’

‘I didn’t get very far. His logic was curious. He believed as long as I existed here, I was denying others. Therefore I had to die.’ The old man seems untroubled. He doesn’t take it personally. ‘Not just for his sake. He thought some worlds were possible only without me.’

‘Could that have worked?’

‘I’m unsure. I can’t see a timeline where I don’t exist. He has, on occasion, tried to hunt every instance of me, but his memory of that crusade rarely surfaced, and it ebbed whenever he… shifted. Memory falters without an anchor.’

I knew Volibear had shamanic powers, but since when was he a time traveller? He could have slain one of my ancestors. ‘How long has he lived? Why didn’t Anivia notice him?’

‘You must have inferred from his regeneration that Volibear has experienced more lives than anyone could remember, least of all, him. A strange gravity, birthed from his role, draws knowledge of the man away from history and himself.’

‘You mean it wasn’t the storm keeping him alive?’

‘It hastened the process and allowed him to fight for longer but no. Because of his inner conflict – his dual tendencies to judgement and compassion, order and chaos – he is in perpetual motion, a furnace that cauterises the flow of time. He never worshipped the storm. The storm worshipped him.’

How frustrating. If my experience with the treant was accurate, I’m exerting some influence between lives, but I couldn’t remember this. ‘To think I never saw.’

‘You came close. Recall the trouble you had reading his expression or age. That was you glimpsing the veil.’

‘I struggled with Urisne in general. It wasn’t…’ Realisation dawns. ‘Wait. Volibear was the only one I engaged. I didn’t even try to read the others.’ How could I have united the Freljord with such myopia?

‘You insist upon your failings. Avarosa gave you much but your vision was always your own.’

I have one burning question. ‘Does he remember Sejuani?’

‘Volibear sought many children. Sejuani was one of many, but no less important for that. He loved them all. The man before you has loved more than any being I’ve known, and he mourns just as deeply. Though he doesn’t recall why, the feeling endures.’

I’m wracked with sympathy. ‘Poor Volibear, that’s impossibly cruel. I couldn’t live with that.’

‘Neither could I. Before my disjunction, I was already a grandfather. My family survived for generations. I can celebrate their lives without regret.’ He looks up in reverence. ‘Volibear is a martyr. He grants the universe peace by forgoing his. Even now, he rages against his fate and that only strengthens his grip. I sometimes curse my existence, but I need only consider him to know my fortune.’

‘I fear I’d be less generous, er… sorry, I never asked your name.’

‘You had no reason to ask. Who would you tell of me?’ He laughs kindly, with more vigour than I expected. ‘My name is Zilean. Some call me the Chronokeeper, which is nonsense. I keep little, except for my wits. I may have been chosen to bear witness but, all told, I’m just a mage of limited power who came unstuck from time.’

‘I could ask you so many questions but it appears I’ll move on and forget them anyway.’

‘That is true, and I have no need for an audience. Besides, you don’t have long.’ Shadows lap at my feet. ‘The breach will soon resolve by returning you to the cycle.’

‘The cycle… I had visions where I changed the past.’

Zilean sounds tired of disappointing me. ‘Yes, but you always come to the same end.’

‘Even if I make Volibear go on without me?’

Before Zilean can reply, a familiar, menacing voice takes over. ‘Aah, _dal segno_ without a coda, forever and ever and ever. Such a dull composition, but you are one of my favourite performers, Ashe. I could listen to you recite a grocery list.’

Zilean groans. ‘Tragically, Volibear and I are not alone and this _divo_ craves an audience like no one else.’

Karthus descends, arms out as if to welcome me to his show. The lich may be vain, but he was helpful in the past. I should indulge him. ‘Well, I’m in no position to judge. I’ve put on a few displays.’ I greet him with a bow. ‘Thank you, Karthus. You did say we would meet again.’

‘Ah, Zilean, do you remember when she used to curtsy? Her romantic escapades have turned her into a man.’

Zilean’s not impressed. ‘You’re trapped in your own time, Karthus.’

‘Aren’t we all? Now step aside. This part was written for me.’ Karthus pretends to clear his throat. ‘Regardless of your actions, you are destined to die, some ten months after your latest requiem. Anivia will try to preserve your soul only to throw you back to the first rupture.’

‘I think I saw it… when I captured Sejuani and forced mead down her, correct?’ Was that our first kiss? Or the consensual one which followed?

‘Yes. You grant her one of two deaths, the quick sundering of the flesh or the slow drowning of her self. You let her go most of the time. When you _do_ put a bag over her head and stab her with that relic of yours, a voice from another life maintains you’re doing her a favour, which you are.’

To think I celebrated unearthing the Frost Queen’s Claim. I’ll bury that weapon again so it won’t harm anyone else. ‘Ten months, you said? How will I die, and why can’t I avoid it?’ Something tugs at my chest. I look down to see a crab-like symbol mark my breastbone.

‘You had ascribed your inconvenient fainting spells to stress, dehydration or whatever seemed relevant at the time, all false. You have heart cancer.’

‘No, that can’t be! So my efforts were for naught? Even if I do everything right, I’m going to die young?’

‘Yes. Each time we meet, I urge you to embrace the sweetness of the grave instead of this recurring nightmare but, no, you must sing every verse of your pain, conduct every variation on your twin themes of desire and self-hatred. Your cold-feathered friend has ensured that.’

‘Anivia… did she know any of this?’

‘No, she was just reckless. You can’t imagine the joy it brings me to know that… _thing_ is not here. Clearly, she dies eventually, unlike _that_ charmless mediocrity.’

Zilean brushes off the insult. ‘We are stuck with each other. I exist through time, yet exert no influence. I couldn’t end my vigil if I tried. As for Karthus, he loves the sound of his own voice too much to rest.’

‘Oh please, I take my duty seriously. As long as one person lives, the universe has need of me.’

‘It never had need of you.’ Zilean rounds on him. ‘Forgive our bickering, ashen maid. Karthus gets over-excited when you visit.’

‘You don’t even use her name, you pretentious idiot.’

I pay no heed to their argument. Emptiness claws at me. I see the darkness spread from my womb. ‘I guess reliving my affairs with Sejuani and Quinn is not the worst fate,’ I say to no one. ‘If only I were good for them.’ Smoke erupts. I try to locate the source but I can’t see through it. An eerie glow tells me Karthus’ barrier is up. Fortunately, I don’t have to breathe. ‘What’s happening?’

Zilean calls, ‘I don’t know. Come towards my voice. I can protect you if needed.’

I hear someone choking. It sounds like a young woman. After clearing her throat, she whoops in joy. ‘This is cosmic! We’re totally invading the Shadow Isles if their reagents are this good. Wow!’

My sins always catch up with me. ‘Lux?’

‘Ashe!’ The smoke disperses, and she totters into view, wearing a scorched apron. ‘You are _so_ my favourite person right now. All that stuff I told you about being a disappointment? All forgotten.’

Zilean says, ‘Before you ask, she’s new to me.’

Lux doesn’t bother to introduce herself. ‘This is the end of time, right? You don’t have to explain. I heard everything. There’s no way I was missing out, so I took a stronger dose to see if I could talk to you directly, and… ta-dah! Here I am.’

I fear I’m responsible for this. ‘A dose of what?’

‘A big bird dropped off a present from the Shadow Isles.’

‘Quinn gave you the rose?’ I’m jealous, despite my better wishes.

‘Not her, the other bird. I’m not stupid. You and Valor did this behind Quinn’s back, didn’t you?’

‘Sort of but she…’

Karthus booms, ‘A rose?’ Oh no. ‘Did you _smoke_ one of my flowers?’

Lux flutters her eyelashes. ‘Maaaaaybe?’

He turns to me. ‘Ashe, you light-fingered strumpet, we’re having words.’

I say, ‘ _You_ dropped the rose. I was only cleaning up.’

‘What did I say about reminding me of my carelessness?’

Lux sashays between Zilean and Karthus. ‘Either way, it seems you boys have a quandary, and I owe Ashe enough to solve it. Aren’t you lucky?’

Zilean seems intrigued, but Karthus demurs. ‘Not while death can solve anything.’

‘You’re so boring. Artists always turn out reactionary, don’t you think?’ Lux taps her chin. ‘Right-right, Ashe will die if she breaks the cycle, so she’s not only trapped herself, she’s done it in such a way that she gets to have whoopee with two sexy ladies until her bits are raw. First question, are you sure you want out of this, playgirl?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you don’t want to die?’

‘Sometimes, but there is too much left unfinished, and Volibear told me to keep on walking.’ I look up at him. ‘It’s a debt none of us will outlive.’

Lux follows my gaze. ‘Remarkable,’ she says hungrily. ‘If only I’d known...’

A chill crosses the void, eliciting a moan from Volibear’s chest. I clench my fist. ‘You’ll draw the wrath of the whole Freljord if you lay a hand on that man.’

‘Fine, fine, it can’t be helped, right? I was only speculating. Imagine what we could…’

Zilean interrupts. ‘You are not the first to discover his identity. Nothing ever comes of it.’

Lux’s brow hardens. ‘Whatever. My whole life, people have told me what I can’t do. Now it’s time to show you what I _can_.’ She stands with her back to him. ‘So all of history is that-a-way, clock-face?’

‘It is, but entropy has dispersed everything. You’d be trying to reconstitute a wheat-field from breadcrumbs.’

‘If anyone can see into the dark…’ Light suffuses her lungs, undulating like the surface of a lake. ‘It’s the lady of luminosity!’ Her eyes and ears bleed radiance until a white sun obscures her features. ‘Witness the power Demacia had repressed! _No more holding back_!’

We surge through the cosmos, riding Lux’s beam as it races from station to station. I’m drawn to a certain chapter then descend, once more, into the stream of life…


	3. Chapter 3

I sit with my back against our chamber door. We listen to her scream, terrified and alone.

Volibear stands apart, refusing to share my vigil. He’s here at Sejuani’s behest, not mine. She’s trapped in a waking nightmare for which I’m responsible, and he’s aided me beyond forgiveness.

Tryndamere storms in but I see through his aggression. He’s only here to plead. ‘Why are you still out here? Don’t give in to her fucking pride, Ashe. Do you know how many things can go wrong with childbirth?’

I say flatly, ‘She might die.’

‘How can you be so…?’ He urges Volibear. ‘Talk some sense into her, old man! You should be the voice of reason here, not me.’

His words crack with empathy. ‘Do you think Sejuani cares for reason?’ He can hardly breathe. The smell is choking him. ‘She is losing her identity in there. Force would only scatter what remains. Let her die on her feet.’

‘She’s dying on her back!’ says Tryndamere. ‘And there’s no such thing as a good death. No matter what she loses, I’m sure that stubborn mare could recover, but she needs _life_ to do so.’

A stranger’s words leave my mouth. ‘Tryndamere, she knows her limits, and we have to respect them for our alliance to work.’

‘You don’t believe that. She’s the type who goes in first, and warriors like that only survive as long as their backup.’ I don’t answer. We’ve performed this dance too many times. He’ll cave. ‘You second-guess everyone. Why choose now to break the habit of a lifetime?’

‘I’ll break every habit she desires to be the woman she deserves.’

‘You’re denying yourself. That ain’t healthy. You of all people should know that.’ He doesn’t have to mention Quinn by name.

What is there to deny? I’m so far gone due to stress and fear, that all I can feel is a distant grey hum, running through my temples. I gaze through Tryndamere to a point somewhere beyond, a grey star in a grey sky. ‘I know that I’m often wrong. Sejuani might prove that again.’

‘She can’t prove anything! What’s going on in there has nothing to do with her strength or will. She could be tough as my boots. All of that conditioning won’t unravel her tubes if they’re knotted.’

I wish I knew enough about childbirth to disagree but recent events had left me too numb to learn. I’d crushed two thirds of the Freljord with mechanical savagery, and shed all compassion to do so.

* * *

The slaughter began with a miracle, or a technicality disguised as one.

Anivia’s egg could restore only via rebirth. The cryophoenix herself could fulfil this by perishing to hatch again. Humans could use its magic to experience their life anew but they could not reproduce themselves into the future.

However, due to Volibear’s conduction and Sejuani’s connection to the beyond, she and I had met inside the cryophoenix egg. The process now had two lives with which to create a third. The egg had been _fertilised_. Sejuani reclaimed her soul but, instead of waking up in the past, she moved on by carrying our child.

She took this poorly. Sejuani had never accepted her body. She didn’t eat. She didn’t leave her quarters. Instead, she spent long hours peering into the dark as if she could expel her mind by staring hard enough.

When she finally told me this, I recalled Sarah’s account of her pregnancy. Are these experiences widespread, or are such tales drawn to me as their rightful home?

Sejuani could have escaped her female cage. Instead, she chose life. Accompanied by Volibear, she crossed into my territory, hornless and unarmed.

I showed no mercy.

Capturing them both, I led an all-out assault on their scattered forces. I razed their settlements. Anyone who didn’t surrender was made to watch as I murdered their families before them. I didn’t want any children to survive and seek vengeance upon me. Kalista’s army was large enough.

I carried the Frost Queen’s Claim and executed prisoners myself. I looked each victim in the eye and felt their blood run over my hands. If I were to unite this land, I had to be the scion of more than Avarosa. My legacy would include that of the warlike Serylda and the wicked Lissandra. The Winter’s Claw, and even the Ursine, would know fear.

Tryndamere knew what I was doing and why. He shielded me from concerned allies who might have staged an intervention. Perhaps he would have spared me this trial had the power fell to him, but he didn’t patronise me. He allowed me to carry the burden as a warrior, not his wife.

Olaf gathered the bulk of resistance and attempted a counterattack. He might well have achieved something had he not been so easily manipulated. I challenged him to single combat then signalled my archers to fill him with arrows. I grabbed his axes and screamed at his allies that this wasn’t a game, and rules wouldn’t save anyone from my wrath. His raiders charged right into one of Gragas’ explosive casks.

The last, heroic stand of the Winter’s Claw would go down in history as a farce. 

Others were more tenacious. Once I reached the heart of Sejuani’s territory, her remaining people had forsaken their lands and taken refuge in the mountains. I had no way of hunting them down without great risk. I surmised Udyr had rallied the survivors to prevent them falling on my blade. Every pointless death was one less person to fight the Watchers. He was doing me a favour.

Tryndamere was eager to invade and match wits with the best skirmisher in the Freljord, but I couldn’t let the boys have their fun with so much at stake. For now, my conquest was over.

The Ursine were not fundamentally opposed. They had merely doubted my strength. Only Volibear had grave moral objections to my leadership, and he was in my dungeon.

I returned to Sejuani and relayed her defeat in spiralling detail. My poise crumbled until I disgorged all the traumas I’d inflicted with a bloodless howl. She listened, a mere woman, taller than average and five months pregnant. I don’t know when it happened, but I found myself on the floor, clutching at her feet as if they were all the comfort I deserved.

Sejuani took responsibility, of course. By her account, she’d led her people to the brink and left them dependent. If they’d been urged to think for themselves, or if she’d established a stronger chain of command, fewer people would have died. If not me, then some other predator would have sensed weakness. But I was strong. I would create and protect what she could not.

She wasn’t giving me what I needed.

I grabbed her by the collar and spat in her face. I’d slaughtered her kin and I wanted to see her grieve. I wanted her to weep like a child for the people I’d erased from history. She owed me that satisfaction for dirtying my hands with their innards.

Her convulsions were strong enough that I feared a miscarriage. In retrospect, her body was too pitiless to grant her the soothing title, “failure as a woman”. Once her lamentations peaked, I forced her to look at me then told her _I_ was responsible.

She lashed out.

I was on my back, nose bloody, lips torn and throat bruised. Her hands were on my shoulders. I saw no bestial rage in her eyes, only cold fury. She drew back and punched me twice more.

I whimpered for her to kiss me.

Sejuani leant back and listened four times before delivering me. Her mouth was soft, but her actions were not. All the pain and ecstasy merged into a cacophony of sweet emptiness until I surfaced, aching. The floor was cool and wet underneath my bare hips. I felt the chill dungeon air on my skin where she’d rent my clothes. 

Apart from me, Sejuani sat, fully dressed, knees drawn up to her growing belly. Her face was a touch red, but otherwise composed. I asked if she felt better.

She felt calmer but not better.

Climbing to my feet, I asked whether she was going to keep the child. She nodded. We shared an understanding that we could thrash out the details another time. We could wait until the blood was dry.

The ease with which everyone accepted our magical pregnancy was remarkable. Fate intervening to stop a war, by combining two poles of the Freljord, _made sense_ to people. Commoners spoke as if they had seen this coming. I was baffled. I recalled a time when I was the dreamer, persuading others of my vision.

Had I been channelling someone else for twenty-five years? I could see no bridge between Ashe then and Ashe now. Perhaps I’d crawled out of her skin and worn it as a cloak. Sejuani saw continuation, as did Volibear. Their observations only heightened my discord.

Tryndamere noticed the bewilderment with which I contemplated my hands. I didn’t need the reminder but I was grateful that he cared.

Yet my struggle was nothing compared to Sejuani’s. At least my body felt like a suitable machine, performing suitable chores. At worst, it was unfamiliar, not a torture device.

* * *

We listen to her roar like a dragon as the mountains part. Silence creeps into the room. Tryndamere and I exchange worried glances while Volibear lifts his nose in anticipation. He says, ‘I can hear two mouths breathing.’

My heart races. Our future is in that room and I can’t imagine its form. Tryndamere helps me to stand. ‘Are you all right, Ashe? What’s it like, being a dad?’

‘If you call me that again, I’m going to slap you.’ Pressing my cheek against the door, I whisper, ‘Come on, Sejuani. Say something.’ I can’t knock. She has to let me in.

After a tense wait, she announces, clear as a gjallarhorn, ‘Ashe, I’m done. You may come.’ A pause. ‘If Tryndamere’s there, send him away.’

He mutters, ‘Guess we’ve got the old Sejuani back.’ He really wants to see the child.

I wouldn’t be so hasty. Her existence is a string of deaths, literal and figurative. I grasp the handle and catch Volibear’s gaze. He breaks our connection. ‘She called for you, not me.’

I say, ‘Don’t make excuses. You’re better than that.’

‘Am I? She must escape my shadow, which is all I can offer at this time.’

‘Even if you’re not happy, Sejuani deserves to see you! Your _grandchild_ deserves to see you!’

‘The storm leaves no trace but… ash.’ How unfortunate. I steal everything from him, even his ancient wisdom. ‘Dig your future. The ground is yours and yours alone.’

Tryndamere says, ‘Volibear’s lost his girl to womanhood, and there’s been no ceremony to ease the blow.’

‘She was never mine to lose.’ Volibear pads away.

‘But you feel otherwise.’ Tryndamere follows with an outstretched arm. ‘Come on. Let’s go tell Anivia. She’s been sick with worry.’ He gives me the thumbs up. I should leave the “male” problems to him. He has more experience. I’m still figuring out how to be… not-a-father. I don’t have the language for this. Besides, Anivia _had_ fallen ill of late. I hope that’s not due to her part in our conception.

Everything recedes. I must cross the threshold alone. Volibear was on to something. This feels right somehow.

The smell of blood and earth is overpowering. I breathe in, thirsty for communion. All these impressions are fleeting. I must record them. Sejuani sits up, at ease in her own gore. Her eyes are sunken but she looks well. To her breast, she clutches our child like a sack of provisions.

I inch closer as if nearing a mirage. An invisible smile colours her words. ‘It’s real, Ashe. Don’t worry. She can’t bite.’

‘ _She?_ ’

‘Did you expect anything else? We’re both women, of a sort.’

‘We couldn’t assume anything. How many children… are…?’ My words trail off. Underneath the slickness of the womb, our daughter has skin the colour of bright snow, feathered with shimmering blue down. Flaps of skin join her arms to her sides. I’m startled enough that I black out for a second. 

Sejuani’s unconcerned. ‘Her egg was from a cryophoenix. It’s… wonderful. She could fly one day, Ashe. This girl could _fly_.’

Something in me breaks at Sejuani’s tone. I throw my arms around them both. I would sacrifice the world to hear her speak like that again. I would see it burn.

As I nestle in the crook of her shoulder, I see our child’s face for the first time. She watches me silently, human except for her prodigious eyebrows and shining pupils. Recognition grips my heart. This is my daughter, and she will inherit my pain and ferocity.

But she will have the guidance I never had, and I see the prelude of Sejuani’s curious bone structure and subtle underbite. There is hope.

Sejuani toys with my hair. ‘She’s a runt, like I was. The challenges will come thick and fast. We must arm her. Between us, we can train her to ride and hunt. I suppose Tryndamere can teach her swordplay, so long as he doesn’t impart anything else.’

‘I’m glad you’re involving him.’

‘He’s too good an asset, and I respect his might and devotion… but he’s no leader, not like you.’ She kisses my head. ‘Anivia can handle any signs of magic. I’ll be surprised if there aren’t any.’

‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘I am. I have my sense back and a focus which should outlive me. If this is the maternal instinct women speak of, it’s welcome.’

I notice the slip. ‘“Women”?’

‘I’m _your_ woman, Ashe, not everyone’s. Only you’ve earnt that privilege.’ She returns my challenge. ‘I know your mind. You’re worried this experience has broken me.’

‘Yes.’

Her jaw tenses while she looks into our daughter’s eyes. ‘The strain was bearable, and I didn’t soil myself. There’s no dignity in war, but I’m glad I retained some.’

‘How are you feeling?’

Her words are less confident. ‘I never wanted this. All my life, I’d fought this role. Now I fear the world has been proven right. They will claim I was never a chieftain but a mother, whose protests to the contrary were the fantasies of a child.’

‘You’re above what others say.’

‘Am I? They’re in my head, Ashe, and I’m one of them.’ She sighs. ‘What softens the blow is that our daughter is more than human. It will be easier to consider this trial as my own rather than a woman’s. I didn’t succumb to flesh but… something else.’

‘I wish I could have taken your place.’

‘No, I’d have felt helpless, uninvolved and suspicious of our daughter. It was better this way. Besides, _I_ am your vanguard.’

Her declaration is romantic yet I look over my belly and feel the kick of a premonition. I’ll never give birth. ‘As long as you’re fine with that.’

‘I am. You needn’t worry for my sake. I’m well and I have a campaign to lead.’ Sejuani chooses her next battle. ‘What of her name? Are you still enamoured with “Serylda”?’

‘Or Seryldóttir. By accepting your people’s matriarch as an Avarosan, we could heal the past.’ Avarosa’s cool hand brushes mine. She approves.

‘We can’t heal the past or know the future. The present is all we have.’

This conversation fails every time. Sejuani offers nothing and refuses everything. ‘What about Volitia? The name suggests willpower, and it would be nice to honour…’

‘Volibear wouldn’t appreciate that.’ Her voice grows quiet. ‘You’ve noticed, haven’t you? Volibear’s drifting away, piece by piece, and I’d rather not leash him to us.’

‘He won’t abandon you, surely?’

‘Neither would he hold me back, especially from choices he wouldn’t make, which is growing harder now you’re in my life. Honestly, I think _you’re_ the one keeping him here, not me.’

‘Why?’

‘You still challenge him. I can only tempt him to settle, and he will never settle.’

I can speak only for myself. ‘I don’t want to lose him.’

‘Neither do I but we lose everything in the end. He’s not a young man.’ She tightens her embrace. I should be the one comforting her but this is a pattern we’ve yet to break. ‘If he leaves without a word, it won’t be for lack of care. Trust me.’

‘Trust you? I _did_ leave you to give birth alone despite everyone’s better judgement.’ I nip her earlobe. ‘I know it’s a stressful decision but we have to name our daughter, and I’m the only one making suggestions.’

‘You’re trying too hard, and I think auspicious names are dangerous. What if she chooses a different life? What if she doesn’t inherit your throne?’

‘ _Our_ throne.’

Sejuani ignores my correction. ‘If we can’t build a country where our _own daughter_ can be free then what is the point?’ She strokes our newborn’s down. ‘What if she prefers to be our son? Who are we to shackle them to a name as good as a lie?’

‘Those are fine concerns, but we need something for the records. Our affairs won’t organise themselves.’

‘How like you to prioritise your desk.’

‘You’re just as bad. Your tribe’s new weapons had _serial numbers_. Did you think I wouldn’t notice?’ I prod our daughter’s nose, encouraging her to laugh with me. I get a smile. She’s taking my side. ‘Look, I’m happy to have a naming ceremony when she comes of age, and she can pick another one, but you’ll have to persuade Anivia. She’ll insist on a precedent.’

‘I don’t know how you put up with her.’

‘Be nice. We owe her a lot, and she’s been very accommodating.’ Tryndamere had played a vital role in keeping Anivia on side. Ever the traditionalist, she felt better knowing I had a “strong king to protect our land”. However, I drew the line at her addressing Sejuani as my “duchess”. That was a day I’d sooner forget. ‘I wonder if she names her eggs before they hatch. She might have a solution.’

‘Eggs? What would you name an egg, Shelly? Shell…?’ Her eyes glimmer. ‘ _Skaljō_ …’ The child meets her gaze in acknowledgement. ‘Yes, a name to be cast aside without regret.’

‘I didn’t realise you knew the old tongue.’ With a sound like crystals forming, our daughter breathes an “ah” syllable. Sejuani’s transfixed. ‘You’re sticking with that, aren’t you?’

‘Skaljō,’ she says. ‘I’m… your mother, and…’ a tear falls down her face. ‘One day, you are going to _fly_.’ Sejuani cries with her whole body. I hold her and shower her with kisses while Skaljō watches, learning from my actions.

I feel our minds touch. _You are not me._

_No._

_She is not you._

_No_

_So how do “we” become?_

_“We” is only becom_ ing _, never to end._

_“I”… is it the same?_

_Yes, it is a shell, always hatching. Every “I” is always hatching, only becoming._

_A shell… Skaljō._

_Skaljō._

While I am ash, the end of all becoming. Where can I go from here?

_They use ash to melt ice._

Was that her? The thought ripples. I am Ashe, the marauder who sows chaos, who turns the world inside-out, who changes warlords into nurses, who… melts ice into water.

So that was it all along.

Thank you, Skaljō. We may never share a mother’s tenderness but we have a connection of our own.

Am I your father?

Sejuani draws her close. Tiny hands and a toothless mouth grasp for purchase. The contact is like a branding iron. With a swallowed cry, Sejuani looks between my face and breasts, as though begging me to do something.

Her naked horror disturbs me. I say, as gently as possible, ‘I’m not lactating, Sejuani. She has to feed.’ And I suspect our daughter may be a fussy eater.

‘I don’t know if I can.’

She’s been through the worst so it’s odd to see her fall at this trench but, even before this trial, her chest was over-sensitive to the point of agony. Trauma is resurfacing, and I’m responsible. ‘We’ll get through this. I’ll fetch a midwife. Are you okay with that?’ She nods frantically. Her moments of need are precious, and Sejuani prefers that I treasure them without guilt. Our exchanges of power may never be healthy but we navigate them as one.

Even if it all comes undone, I will keep walking. I will preserve the memories of those I fail so long as my blood flows, and longer if I can. Perhaps I will follow Volibear into the mists of time.

But I have not failed yet.


	4. Chapter 4

Wait.

I stand where all possibilities converge. I did fail.

I must inure myself. I retrace the light-drenched path to where it forks into darkness. 

* * *

Endings never truly begin. From before conception, our fate is determined. Yet, humans are pattern-seekers. We might all scratch a mark on a line and say, ‘From here out is the final chapter.’

That mark was Udyr.

He arrived alone, just a man without his entourage of spirits, yet he spoke as before, contemptuous and assured. If the tidings he bore weighed upon his heart, he kept that from us all. 

Sejuani had learnt she was with child. Earlier resolutions were no bulwark against sheer organismic terror. Screaming, she clawed at her swollen belly until Volibear had to restrain her. Casting aside her dignity, she slept with men, brutish and beautiful, as though it would reconfigure her brain to accept her state.

Eventually, she concluded the pain was in her body, so her body had to die. She built her own funeral pyre and cast herself upon the flames. Bristle lay down next to her ashes until he passed away in his sleep.

Volibear disappeared. His despair was too much for others to behold or comprehend.

Olaf killed himself by leading a foolish charge against me. Lissandra smelt weakness and invaded. With all his guile, Udyr stalled her but he had to concede half their territory to save two thirds of the Winter’s Claw.

I was their only hope. Even if my foes hated me, they respected I had an army and knew how to lead it. Warriors who couldn’t abide assimilation followed Olaf’s example and fell in battle.

Finally, the people of the Freljord marched under one banner. The day had set on our conflict, yet I had failed. Without Sejuani, I was but a shadow without a sun.

I couldn’t infer what was real or not. I had no fantasy with which to compare the dismal present. Luckily, I wasn’t needed. The Watchers were a monolith, not an unpredictable, messy alliance. Lissandra enjoyed her traps, but they were the ploys of a constant rival, not one which wavered between love and hate. Anivia’s cold arithmetic and Tryndamere’s earthly cunning were enough to protect our lands. They didn’t need my supposed genius.

Udyr was a great help. He clashed with Tryndamere, as comparable souls often do, but he soon earnt everyone’s trust, along with their ire. He was plainspoken and easy company. While he had little sympathy for my broken heart, he acknowledged it was a mortal wound, and assumed I was no longer a factor in his campaign. Others tried to heal me through patience, logic or tears. Udyr accepted my condition without argument.

I retreated further into my shrinking world. Rumours alleged I was dying because of my link to Sejuani. People had always wondered if we were sisters of blood or fate. Without her as the southern cross to my polestar, I lost all significance. Alive, yet not living, I passed into myth. Tryndamere was our nation’s leader. My part was over.

Soon, I came to believe I was holding Tryndamere back. He persisted in seeking my judgement, even as I echoed his conclusions, time and again. I’d long underestimated my dear husband and I wanted the world to share my epiphany. Tryndamere was no bloodthirsty relic but a tenacious and empathetic leader, who would be present in a way that I never could.

I was fully prepared to close this chapter and end my life, give myself to the wastes… yet I had made a promise to one little Demacian.

I considered leaving without a word. After all, I needed no supplies. Even in my diminished state, I could hunt my way to the border. My bloody talents remained. However, I could not abandon Tryndamere to the pain of questions unanswered.

I explained I had to choose between two deaths, a quick one which secured my place in history, or a slow one which paid off my debt. He said he couldn’t bear any more loss, that I was all he had left. I had no words. He collapsed over my desiccated form and I stroked his back and hair, mourning the life my sexuality had stolen from us.

Eventually, he recovered, and insisted on whatever option kept me alive the longest. He could fight for a better world so long as I was in it. I told him he would find another reason because he had done so before.

We parted, and he kept the secret of my survival, and our wedding band.

* * *

In Demacia, I couldn’t reveal my presence to Jarvan, but I had no means by which to find Quinn. The land was kinder than the Freljord but I didn’t know the seasons or the flora. The mushrooms made me hallucinate. Wild animals congregated where I’d seek shelter from people or daylight.

I longed for a cave to call my own, but the Demacians loved building castles near rock formations. I was delirious and exposed. With nothing to occupy my thoughts, I could find respite only in exercise, masturbation and sleep.

Occasionally, I broke up the monotony with a mushroom binge, but the indulgence left me sick for days.

Months passed, and sleep became impossible. I dreamt I lay next to Sejuani’s corpse, and when I woke up, _she was still there_ , grey and bloated as if she were pregnant. I howled, lost in a reality of my own, crawling on all-fours in case I fainted from exhaustion or madness.

I imagined bright Valor against the bright Demacian sky, bold, untroubled Valor. Quinn stirred longing and regret, but Valor soared above our concerns. I latched onto his freedom and followed him as I would a constellation.

After circling identical plains, I found myself lying in a wheat field, staring into the sun as if it would render me blind within and without.

Yet it wasn’t a sun, it was a young woman with golden eyes and red hair. She gathered me into her arms and we cried. Finally, my pain found expression in something other than death or madness.

Quinn cradled me as if I were a bird with broken wings. She had grown stockier during our time apart, her thick arms cut free of their sleeves. I nestled into her, losing myself in her expanse. My little bird was now larger than I was, in body and will. I said things, and they made her sob like a child at her parent’s deathbed.

Her private lodge was no shack, but a miniature fortress, complete with foundations. Jarvan had spent a large sum on his prospective queen. However, the inside was a pigsty. Quinn lived by herself, and was averse to cleaning up after _any_ activity, whether that was dressing game, fletching quarrels or traipsing through the woods. Her bed was more akin to a nest, composed of animal skins, unwashed clothes and a rug while the sheets were strewn across the floor, mottled with stains like rings on a plague victim. 

She was apologising for the state when I rolled out of her arms and claimed the nest for myself. It was grimy and comforting. There were endless layers of defence to draw across my bones. I’d improvised similar shelters in the past, and understood the appeal. From the safety of the darkness, I told Quinn everything that had occurred.

She fell on top of me. I could feel her weight through the mounds of cloth and fur. She said it was all her fault for wanting me back.

I asked if she had _really_ wanted me back, and she didn’t answer.

I commandeered her bed and her life. She fed and watered me. Whenever she was called by Jarvan, she served him during the day then snuck away under the moon and stars. This left her grumpy and tired. She scowled with poorly concealed resentment as I ate with shaking hands. I welcomed her candour.

We weren’t intimate. On occasion, I would wake up in her clutch, underneath limbs heavy with sleep. During these moments, I could reach out into nothing and run my hand through our guilt, thick as water.

My strength returned so I began cleaning her lodge. She didn’t thank me. Instead she protested my efforts and apologised for not cleaning it herself. I heard a territorial reflex underneath her contrition. Gently, I claimed no judgement. She’d lived on her own long enough, and she had more pressing matters than her own comfort. I just wanted to give her a better life in return for looking after me.

Quinn yelled that I owed her nothing. She’d forced dependence upon me. She wasn’t going to keep me in servitude, as a housekeeper or a…

 _Or a what?_ I asked.

She didn’t respond.

I took her hand. We would never be free of our situation. Our relationship would never be pure.

But it didn’t have to be.

Quinn was needy and submissive that night, a far cry from the strong provider she had become. She looked up at me, ashamed at her regression, but I knew she would rise and fall many times over the course of her life, or a single day.

Following that, she allowed me in. I became her angel of the hearth. I made her home presentable, and tried to cook using Demacian ingredients. Neither of us knew how to cook for taste, so we bonded over shared incompetence. I would treat her after a long day by welcoming her in skimpy outfits. My little puritan seemed hesitant to play along but, one evening, she brought me elaborate lingerie and scurried outside in embarrassment.

She crept back in to find me bouncing with joy. Needless to say, neither of us slept that night, or the night after… or the night after that.

I could play “wife” for only so long. I began practising archery again. Quinn taught me gymnastics, thawing my frozen joints. I remembered that I was still young, only twenty-seven winters, while Sejuani would have been twenty-four. I was doomed to recall her age forever.

Deprived of human contact, I learnt everything about Quinn’s life at court, and drew graphs to help manage her relationships. I pinned them up on our walls, replicating my old war room. Eventually, I caved into my restlessness. I dyed my hair so I could explore but my accent and, unexpectedly, my _walk_ betrayed my heritage. I had to explain I was a refugee then hastily withdraw. Quinn was agitated. I think she’d tried, and failed, to convince herself this would never happen.

Two months later, she came back with a goggle-eyed Jarvan. Quinn babbled that she had to tell him before someone else did. He paced like a heron, occasionally pausing to gape in horror. The rafters fell behind his gaze. He mentioned the lodge was tidy for once and asked if it was my work. When I answered yes, he fell into a chair, muttering something about Quinn needing a woman after all.

She’d told him about my presence weeks ago. In the meantime, Jarvan had sent Xin Zhao to assess the consequences of my departure. He found a mourning but stable nation. Tryndamere was undisputed king of all tribes. He’d strengthened his alliance and regained some land from the Watchers. Anivia stood by him, openly proud of the man he’d become.

There was no dissent. Few people suspected Tryndamere of killing me for the sake of power. His grief was too pure.

Despite the lack of chaos in my wake, Jarvan mustered a weary sermon about my dereliction. He said I couldn’t hide forever, that I’d need an alias and Lux’s goodwill. Even if I could secure those, I was a disaster waiting to happen. Curiously, he lingered after his warning, and even ate with us. I knew something of his trials, and he jousted with Quinn as an equal.

Upon leaving, he spied the diagrams I’d drawn to help Quinn socialise. Underneath his breath, I heard, ‘Waste of a subtle mind’. He told me to, ‘Look after Sir Quinn, by caring for _him_ , you care for Demacia.’

Quinn played with the short, fuzzy hair at the base of her skull, embarrassed yet obviously thrilled. Garen, of all people, had started it, referring to Quinn as a brother-in-arms. An amused Xin Zhao had followed suit, and the masculine terms proved contagious. I guess Demacia had an easier time accepting a queer woman as a man. Jarvan, to everyone’s surprise, joined in sooner than most.

However, it didn’t surprise _me_. Poor Jarvan was trying to drown his affections by seeing Quinn as male. I considered running after him to explain it wouldn’t work, but thought better of it. He’d figure things out on his own. 

I asked Quinn if she’d rather I saw her as a man. She shrugged. When she was with me, she wanted to be something different from one moment to the next… and wouldn’t have it any other way.

That evening, I wept in happiness for Quinn, and lamented how Sejuani had fallen to the same ordeal. Quinn listened without judgement and responded with tears of her own. Her beautiful heart was big enough to shelter a rival she’d never met. I could only hope that Sejuani found some peace there, more than she ever found with me.

The next morning, I felt a chill. As Quinn dressed, I asked how Lux was taking this new development. Quinn flinched as though suddenly becoming aware of a close threat. She chewed on her words for a moment. Lux had been very quiet, watching her with a scowl then doggedly maintaining eye-contact when observed.

From what I knew of Lux, she begrudged people who were more radical, and Quinn’s gender-flipping was the bleeding-edge of high society. Lux must have felt she was losing the only woman close to her age in Jarvan’s entourage. On top of that, she’d expressed interest in Quinn and likely didn’t know what she felt any more. Betrayed? 

A season later, Jarvan returned with ill-tidings. Lux had gone missing, and burnt everything she couldn’t carry. Many of his sources were compromised, and he didn’t trust his purifiers, Lucian or Shauna, to be merciful.

I began to realise why Jarvan had retained Quinn. It wasn’t mere sentiment or propaganda. He needed an operative who wasn’t tainted by vengeance, bloodlust or magic. As Lux had been partial to me and Quinn, he beseeched us to track her down before the worst happened. Quinn looked at me as if it were my decision. I leapt at the chance to be of use.

Jarvan seemed unhappy, as though he’d led me into a trap and felt instant remorse. He stated that our journey might send us across Runeterra. If we wished to live unburdened lives, we could settle in a different country, far from here. I could see his logic. He was averting the potential crisis of my discovery. Quinn could go missing in action with her honour intact. Jarvan would provide for her family… no, her _entire village_.

Quinn was inconsolable. She barked out words between clenched silences, that she had wanted nothing more but to serve Demacia. Quinn didn’t put it in so many words, but she now had to choose between her people and a ruined woman to whom she’d foolishly pledged her love. In her rage, I thought she was going to hit me.

That’s not true. I merely hoped she would.

Jarvan haltingly offered that there might not be a Demacia if Lux wasn’t brought to heel. There was little to go on but a feeling in his old wounds and a tense, cryptic exchange with Sona, but he’d earnt his intuition. Jarvan was not a stupid or sheltered man.

Quinn didn’t come to bed. She slumped in a chair, hands clasped between her spread knees. Eventually, she said, ‘You want this, don’t you? This is your chance to make a difference again, to make things _right_.’ She interrupted my response. ‘You deserve it. I can’t sentence you to this half-life. We’re going.’

I asked her how she felt. She replied, flatly, ‘Don’t all young men want to see the world? No, I’m unhappy, Ashe, and I feel as though I’ve wasted my life up to now. But I can change how I feel. With you at my side, I could learn to see the good in anything, even this. It will take time, is all.’

I asked if she wanted me to leave.

‘Don’t leave me.’

That was an order, not an answer.

‘No, I don’t want you to leave, not now, not ever. If I could turn back time, I would drag you into my life again and again. After all, what is a knight without his lady?’

Or a country?

‘Ever since you showed me the lights of the Freljord, I’ve wondered, in private, if “country” was too small a word. The seed you planted has yet to blossom, but it aches for the sun.’

She’s changed. She’s more eloquent when she speaks like a man.

‘I’m still changing but I need time. Forgive me.’

There was nothing to forgive.

* * *

The next day, I stood on a hill, beneath the watchful glare of distant clouds. I’d buried myself long enough that it felt novel to portray this unique animal called “Ashe” to the world. I was rediscovering Runeterra, myself and the relationship between us all.

In my wake, a figure prowled, looking over their shoulder like an orphan plotting revenge for their razed village. I’d abandoned my life to claim another’s. My promise to Quinn was no excuse. The choice was mine.

Everything was in tatters. After losing the Freljord and Sejuani, how could I save Demacia and Lux? Was Quinn still my lover and friend? Would he… she… resent me for the rest of their life? Would we spend the rest of our days apart from everything we once knew, with just our regrets for company?

Quinn turned, slower than a sunset, falling deeper into my shadow. Stricken with guilt, I begged her to let me go.

Her smile glittered more than anything I’d seen.


	5. Chapter 5

I'm back. For a terrible instant, I process two lifetimes of pain and loss. I claw for air I no longer need until spectral hands restore my poise, bracing me against the pull of time.

Lux yells, 'Keep it together, Ashe! You have to listen to me.' Her shrill voice is dry with panic.

'I can't let Sejuani die! I can't… I can't go forward, even if it is possible.'

'Shut up, you bimbo! You think she won't die of a broken heart without you?' Lux's eyes have disappeared, leaving inky pools of nothing. 'We're breaking this cycle. The first vision is one of your possible futures, and you never let fear of failure stop you before.'

'Yes...' My figure stabilises. 'For better or worse, I let nothing stop me.'

Zilean speaks up. 'If I may, the vision is one of your possible _pasts_. If you fear Sejuani's downfall, know it has already happened. You may be trapped in this cycle but, each time, life goes on.'

Lux says, 'Right-right, so there's no excuse to dilly-dally.' She pulls out a notebook and a pencil. 'A good spymaster always keeps these to hand.' She scribbles and her mouth contorts with each stroke. 'We have proof your disease can be cured, and I think I know how. There's a fallen celestial, Soraka, who hovers around Zaun, caring for the sick. She doesn't keep a low profile, so Quinn and I can track her down easy and point her in your direction.'

'You can't involve Quinn again!'

'Tsk, don't be cruel. This is well within our abilities and she loves being a girl-scout.' Lux stabs into the parchment. 'Right, I'm going to hook this note on Volibear's claw. All er… future-past-whatever-you has to do is get another rose, and other-me will find this note and save you. Mwahaha, I'm so good.'

I cringe at her enthusiasm. 'Why are you doing this? Is it out of the goodness of your heart?'

She fixes me with her hollow eyes. 'Of course, plum-pudding, is it that hard to believe?'

'I didn't mean it like…'

'Don't lie to me, bitch.' Her power flashes and I glimpse her bones. 'You guessed right. Something happens, and I suspect you and Quinn are the only ones who might help me, so I need you alive.' She wipes away her makeup, revealing damage from acne, chemicals and stress. Her forehead seems to grow. She doesn't dye her hair. She wears a _wig_. 'The light is a harsh mistress, and so am I. All I ever wanted was to be good, Ashe, but as the light exposes all, I have to settle for being _right_.'

'For many years, I tried the same. You don't have to be good. You can't always be right.' I call out, as if to myself. 'I'm sorry the world doesn't accept you for who you are. I'm sorry you don't accept yourself.'

Her arms hang loosely by her side as they dissolve into stardust. 'I knew you'd get it. I wasn't wrong to look up to you. I just did so for the wrong reasons.' Her jaw hinges open, stretching into a banshee's wail. 'Perhaps, one day, I'll face myself as you did, but Runeterra may not survive the consequences.'

'We will. Believe in us.'

'Easier said than done when you're all so dumb.' She cackles then disappears.

The whirlpool of time rages. My obligations anchor me like a stone. I have to address Karthus and Zilean. 'Will this be the last time? If we're old friends, I owe you a better farewell.'

Zilean says, 'You owe us nothing but I've always enjoyed your visits. I'm honoured that you consider us friends.'

With a small, sincere bow, Karthus adds, 'For once, the old fool speaks for us both. Your progress was inevitable. Death abhors a closed loop, yet I mourn its passing.'

I say, 'We'll meet again, if Lux has anything to do with it.'

'She's a dangerous being. If her resentment's unleashed, you will come around to my way of thinking soon enough.' Karthus flinches. An unseen wind ruffles his cloak. 'You've seen how much her power illuminates. Imagine all those potentialities behind one set of mortal eyes.'

Zilean adds, 'I have clouded sight which renders the timeline as a series of dark, distant leaps. It keeps me sane. You've glimpsed what your acquaintance can, and she lacks your humility and focus.'

I'm panicking. 'What are we to do?'

Karthus says. 'Nothing. You will forget what you have seen, but it will linger in the quarter-light, influencing as before. There's a chance you've already performed your role by crossing her stage. You've clearly had an effect on the witch.'

As the tides roar, Zilean spirals upwards. 'Once you've seen the end of time, it's natural to broaden your horizons, but Runeterra will face many challenges, with and without you.'

He's not wrong. I should worry more about things closer to home. Lux has good people around her. 'That is true. Take care of Volibear for me.'

Karthus turns to the blood moon. 'He is… beyond our care, Ashe, but I suspect he heard you, somewhere within the endless clamour that sustains him. You are not easily forgotten.' He nods to me over his pauldron. 'As long as he fulfils this role, I will stand vigil.'

'As will I,' says Zilean.

Karthus groans like a bell tolling. 'Spoken like you have a choice.'

As I'm drawn back into the cycle, I shiver in anticipation of everything I'll face again… love, anguish and so many cruel mistakes. How has my soul endured all this without fracturing?

I guess it already has. I'm Ashe, the unwilling scion of war and lust.

With that one thought, I return to see this through.

* * *

I have memories. I'm unsure if they're from the past or the future.

The climate grounds me in the present. A frozen river marks the natural boundary between our lands.

Volibear opens his strongbox. Gingerly, I pick up the egg and say, 'This will change everything, won't it?'

'Maybe not for the better, or as much as you'd hope.'

The words fall upon my shoulder like a warning. 'It's hard to believe in a satisfying resolution after all we’ve been through… so why am I here?'

'Because we persisted,' says Volibear. 'Every answer begins with that.'

'Yes, Tryndamere's wisdom.' I have to smile. 'But if every answer begins with persistence, an ending is no answer at all. Yet here I am, looking for one.'

'We may turn a corner but I doubt this will end anything.'

'I may even put Sejuani in danger.' I shake my head. 'What was I thinking? We did all this for her sake, not for mine. You should return it.'

He sounds hesitant. 'She wants to see you, Ashe. You owe her restitution, and I have no wish to lie about your involvement. I have borne too many secrets as confessor to my sleuth and others. I am nearing my limit.'

I repeat his words back to him. 'You need rest, which you never craved until I entered Sejuani's life.'

'…Yes.'

'But you will not have it, regardless.'

'My divisions are not your concern.' He didn't appreciate me dredging up his weakness. 'Are you not worried for your own life? Is that why you're making excuses?'

'No, I think I'm past fear. I've died in countless ways over the last season.'

He struggles to maintain his opposition. 'I believe you.'

'She knows where to find me. If you and Sejuani think my deeds are worth acknowledgment, you can reveal them. I won't announce them before her people and force her hand.' I pass the egg back to Volibear. 'I'm tired of the chase. I've put her on her back, seduced others to rescue her and I have your forces in a chokehold. Within a few years, you'll be driven to the mountains. I'm already her brazen, bloodstained goddess of the hunt.' Each word pulses through my skull. 'If she wants more, then underneath her bluster is a princess who enjoys being pursued and ravished a little too much. I don't judge. I love every aspect of her but if she wants me to play along, she has to _own_ it.'

Volibear says, 'None of this changes the fact our people are against you.'

'So what? Every material advantage is mine. Without her, the conquest will be smoother. Do you think I'd care half as much knowing she was out of harm's way?' I dare him. 'Even killing me now won't make any difference. Tryndamere and Anivia can finish what I started.'

'I'm not going to kill you, Ashe.'

'I know. You promised her. The point is you were wrong about my continued relevance. I matter only as much as you desire. The future is yours.' I exhale sharply. Somehow, I'm lighter, as if the flesh had melted off my trunk. I feel warm with excitement, or maybe I'm just raw from exposure to the cold. I throw off my cloak and welcome the assault. 'Go home, Volibear. Restore her. I'm going to stay a while and enjoy the scenery.'

'This is no man's land, a long flight from any shelter.' _There's no scenery_ , he thinks, _only a reflection of one's mind_. 'You _are_ planning to head back?'

'Enough plans, Volibear. It is time we lived.'

He hesitates. 'I… recognise this battle. Please, your journey is long enough. There will be plenty of time for contemplation. Don't risk your life to seek it.'

'Why not? I've risked everyone else.' I stride up to him. 'You know, Volibear. I've been wondering. Forget what I mean to Sejuani. Do you care about me?'

He sighs. 'We've shared enough that I have no choice.'

'You always had a choice.' I grab his arm. 'Free yourself.'

'We do not all share your capacity for change, young one.' He touches my arm in return. 'If it cannot be helped, I will return here after my journey and pray I do not find you.'

'Just allow me this chance. If I should live, I must do so with death's door, open wide. Everything that follows must follow that one decision or it is not life.'

His ageless fur shimmers. 'I understand. Your fate is your own but… I urge you to keep walking.'

As he did before. 'Send my love to Sejuani.'

'I will.'

Neither of us say goodbye.

Volibear advances into the white void, until he's no more than a speck of grit. Even as he crosses the horizon, he doesn't fully disappear. Something indelible remains, a disquieting vision of the trials awaiting him.

I am alone with the empty strongbox, a coffin for the being I was.

The compulsions, the burdens, were they ever real? The pull of duty, the push of my body. All this time, I could have walked away and few things would have changed. I might have left a few minor wounds in the flesh of history but they would have closed, leaving scars no different from others.

I've abandoned Sejuani to her own will. I don't have to go back to my people. They built "my" dream with _their_ hands. I have the terrible freedom to wait here, forever. No force on Runeterra could move me. An avalanche could throw my skeleton from crown to chasm but these bones were never mine.

I turn my gaze to the frozen river. To think we saw a boundary in such an arbitrary smear. Tottering, I circle beneath the grey firmament. What is the label "sky" but a choke upon the cosmos?

Everything falls up. I cast off my destiny, throwing out my arms to embrace the future.

This is one ending of many.

But, for now, I have infinity.

* * *

**THE END**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me. Writing this obscure, personal series was an incredible strain. I never thought when I jotted down the beginnings of 'Infinity' that it would end up consuming this much of my life. I know the series has taken some dark turns along the way – and has little audience beyond myself – but I hope my issues have provided some gratification.
> 
> If anyone has any kind words, I'd greatly appreciate them. If you don’t want to leave a public comment, my gmail account is ffwsubstance. Goodbye for now.


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